MOD EVENT #001

[oblivium]

A CHAOTIC RESPITE

It isn't rare for the seasons in the Netherworld to be a little erratic, though many days have passed now without much of a hint of its typical mercuriality, a good and a bad omen all at once. This respite is commonly referred to as the proverbial "calm before the storm", but it also marks the beginning of merrier celebrations. The Moons above are gilded silver, the twilight sky edged with faint pink and orange -- a sunrise phantasm, spilling over the horizon. It's an infrequent spectacle, accompanied by a dulcet breeze and light drizzles that seem to encourage growth nearly everywhere. Unfortunately, under its influence, people seem a little on edge, quick to anger, but no matter; around Stygia, Restless have begun hanging decorations and ornaments on trees and windowsills, left to catch the moonlight and give off marigold and ginger glows, warmly lighting up the city. Rather than fish, the smell of freshly ground spices permeates the air in the Harbors, Mirth keeps its doors opened to all, but just before the festivities officially begin, a cacophony of chimes resounds all over, a transmission difficult to ignore.

On the screen of your cellphone, nothing; only a voice, ragged, out of breath...

“The woods... Oakwoods! They've come alive! O-One minute he was complaining about the water seeping into his boots, and the next he was... he was being yanked up into the trees! We didn’t see what happened to him, but we heard... the screams, ohh, the screams. Please! Come to Serene, I beg you. This is our safest sanctuary, and the lan... oh, no... wait, no, please... please... NOOO--”

...and the feed abruptly ends, a dull chirr of static. Will you ignore the stranger's call for help and feast, or venture into the woods?

► I. KNOCK ON WOOD (OH PUCK, HE'S HOT!)

When you cross the gates of Serene, an old woman welcomes you, palm flat against her chest and disquiet in her eyes. Myrtille, her name. Oakwoods loom dense and dark in the distance behind her, groaning low as leaves rustle without wind. The Mourning Lantern was stolen, and malevolence rose in turn, dooming them all.

“It was once kept here, a sacred Artifact crafted from the bones of Serene's first founder, who gave her heart’s blood willingly to the woods in an act of contrition. It's the absence of the lantern that is contributing to the wood’s unusually active malice, and if you lot cannot retrieve it, then we must sacrifice another. Go! Take these torches and go, before Oakwoods swallow us whole.”

So you've decided to be brave. Commendable, or foolish? The wood is dark and shrouded in mist, and the trees crowd around you, an absent wind somehow whispering foul nothings in your ear as dead leaves rustle around your feet. Your Shadow basks in the murmurs, sensing the malign presence in Oakwoods as a faint, garbled scream echoes in the distance. You wander deeper and the canopy thickens, thin streaks of moonlight peppering the woods in deep patches of darkness. Behind you, a creature you can't see hisses, and a fluttering of wings nearby alerts you to the arrival of snickering harpies lurking on branches. “Dead,” they croak, in a sing-song chorus. “Dead as daylight.” Oddly enough, they seem content to just watch and stalk you, perhaps expecting you to die quickly, an easy and effortless meal.

It's a frustrating errand if you've ever known one. You barely know what you're looking for, and your Shadow thrives in the dark, taunting, coaxing. You hear it then; a haunting melody, the silhouette of a boy on a fallen tree trunk, strumming. “Come,” he says, with a voice that shimmers like the sun on moving water. If you remember what that's like. “Rest a while. Forget your troubles.” For anyone familiar, you'll recognize him as a Puck, famous prankster, and from his hand dangles a lantern.

► If you attempt to take the lantern from him, he'll immediately drop it to the ground, causing it to break. You may choose to kill him and offer his blood to the woods, or let him go and bleed in his stead. Myrtille should be able to repair what's left of the lantern once the offering's been made.
► If you politely ask to return it, he promises that he will... if you indulge him for the night.

No matter what you choose, you will come across camps, either on your way in or on your way back: pitched tents, most moth-eaten, and some containing vestiges of prior expeditions such as putrid corpses or rotten food. You've been wandering for a while, and sleep sounds terribly inviting. Unfortunately, a wind finally picks up, and leaves begin to blow around you. A nick, then a cut, then a slash reveal the leaves to have razor sharp edges. Sleep well yet? If you've spared the Puck, he'll encourage you to sit with him around a campfire, where he'll sing and tell stories. Or are they. Perhaps you've heard of Bloody Mary before. Slenderman? The Devil that'll make you dance until you die? While the lantern remains in stranger hands, the thread between reality and fiction narrows; protagonists from the Puck's legends come to life, and the only way to rid of them is by quenching the flames of the fire.

Your journey unfortunately doesn't end there. The Puck has a riddle for you: I am a word that is hardly there. Remove my start, and I'm an herbal flair. What am I?

If you fail to answer correctly, he'll vanish before you, and you can bid the lantern goodbye. You'll be forced to gather the bones from the corpses scattered across the woods, and feed it your blood -- or a friend's -- before you escape and return to the woman. The offering will leave you drained and exhausted, weak on your legs. If, on the other hand, you do answer correctly, the lantern is yours, and you'll be teleported out of the woods with a boon in your pocket: a piece of parchment invites you to visit your home in the Shadowlands. There, you'll find an object (or a pet) that belonged to you in your world.

the answer to the riddle is sparsely! it's up to you whether you'd like your character to fail.
legends told around the campfire can be any of the ones mentioned above or any other that might strike your fancy! go wild, have fun!
remember that if you pick an item from your character's world as their boon, it'll eventually disintegrate unless reforged with a soul.

.

► II. GO BIG OR GOURD HOME

Welcome to the Frightful Harvest, a festival that marks the beginning of the Respite, a temporary period of tranquility between seasons. It acknowledges the blessings offered and the role that both good and evil play in the Netherworld. It is a time to give thanks, but more importantly, it is a time of reflection and warding. Warding against not only the darkness of the next seasons to come, but of the nefarious creatures and struggles that will undoubtedly follow.

Carved pumpkins and straw bales are placed everywhere around the city, and streamers and banners are hung from every home and storefront. Decadent cakes, candies, and pastries are made in over-abundance in order to accommodate everyone, and from the lush gardens of Radiance, an elderly, dark-robed man addresses the Netherwork. You'll learn by eavesdropping on nearby Restless that his name is Doran, the oldest among you and loved by all. His smile stretches kind, and while not an official member of the Hierarchy, it's clear he has certain privileges -- well-deserved, or so you hear.

“Let us gather, feast, dance and celebrate. Let us hold our glasses high for those who heroically perished, for goodness, and for the Ascended. May their journey inspire us to change our lives and the lives of others, to resist evil, and to triumph. To you, dear friends!”

And without further ado, let the festivities begin!

► BARDIC BLITZ
The bardic blitz is a friendly competition that pits talented musicians against one another in an attempt to win over the affection of the crowd through festive melodies or personal compositions. Although it can be hosted just about anywhere, the bardic blitz is normally held in a large canvas tent directly in the heart of Mirth, though smaller crowds also gather in Serene and the Harbors around bonfires.

► FEAST
Although all cultures around Stygia bring their own tastes and specific flair to the celebrations, there are a few staple trade goods that you can find at nearly any celebration of the holiday throughout the city. Many producing the various cakes, beverages, and cookies also use the time to test and perfect their recipes, teaching others or using them as guinea pigs.

► Firstdawn Tea: This revitalizing crimson tea soothes the mind and body and is brewed from the roots of the dawn flower, which only sprouts during the Respite.
► Grablenuts: These fist-sized brown nuts have a hard, stippled outer shell and soft, delicious spicy centers. A single bite will slightly lower your inhibitions, and you may find yourself seeking proximity and warmth.
► Elysium: A nonalcoholic beverage that smells and looks as bad as it tastes. Only those with the strongest will manage to gulp it down. Once drunk, the person experiences true bliss, which seems to last for hours; in reality, it's only a few minutes.
► Will-o-the-Whiskey: Whisky with minor hallucinatory effects, visual and auditory.
► Sundrop: A pound cake coated in a sugary lemon drizzle. No side-effects, just delicious!
► Shadowfell Candy: Chewing on this candy will grant the character a deep and rejuvenating sleep, during which they will appear dead to anyone.

. ► HARVEST HUNT
The harvest hunt happens in a corn maze located in Mirth's amusement park, specifically created for the occasion. Because of the labyrinthian horrors dwelling in the Tempest, some find the terror-free replica a little inappropriate, yet participants still abound every time. A favorite seasonal game of the exuberant and athletic, characters take on the role of either hunter or prey, racing through the maze to either corner their quarry or escape the hands of their pursuer. As long as Shadows behave, it's a relatively safe activity. Friendly spars sometimes occur, picnics, and star-gazing.

► THE PARADE
The parade is the activity most looked forward to by younger Restless. Citizens clad in colorful costumes walk the streets to the rhythm of festive music, and according to tradition, it helps ward away any lingering evil that might try to hide in the community. For reasons unknown, incidents where Restless unwillingly swap bodies sometimes occur.

► III. WAYWARD SUN

The Warding Ritual is a private affair, a behind-the-scene execution on the last day of the festival as you dance and feast and frolic, blissfully unaware. Something goes awry. First, a shriek in the distance, and soon, birds flying away in apparent surprise as the landscape rustles with the sounds of creatures and Restless alike fleeing. A vague sense of dread knocks the air out of your lungs, an iron grip around your throat. And you see it then, a headless figure shrouded in a black veil of cloth, sword in one hand and a bright flaming pumpkin in the other. Its head. It thunders through the night on its skeletal horse, its blade flashing in the moonlight in search of prey. Heads fall. You might get injured during the chase -- collateral damage. 10 members of the Hierarchy won't ever rise again, and the rider eventually charges into the Tempest, leaving behind bloody puddles and a slather of confusion. If you opt to help clean up the mess, you might come across stained sheets of paper on the ground, a painting of a white scorpion in the middle. Otherwise, it's time for you to go home.

---

ooc note

► Welcome to Nightfell's first event! If you'd like additional, more casual prompts, the Notice Board is right here! New prompts will be added next month, if you've already had your fun with them!
► You'll find some answered questions here, but if you'd like to ask something else, please comment below!
► For a little spooky ambience in the woods.

Comments

[windsongs]

[ That smile rends her heart, bringing with it a sense of urgency that quickens her pace. As she makes it to Zagreus's side, she crouches down next to him. She isn't in nearly as bad of shape; a shallow gash near her right temple stains her hairline crimson and her cheekbone looks a little swollen. Coupled with a busted lip on the same side, he can make some educated guesses of what might have happened. ]

Don't worry about me, I've had way worse. [ Liar.

Carefully reaching up to comb his hair out of his face, she looks for any clear injuries. Sorry Zagreus, she's normally a lot better about respecting personal boundaries, but desperate times. ]

I didn't. Can you tell me? Do you remember?

[dodgeouttahell]

[He doesn't wince, move away from the touch at all. If anything it looks as though he's leaning into it, trying to help her out realize that he's fine, and that his godhood doesn't really allow for him to be injured that easily. He's a little under the weather, more taken by the uselessness of his presence than even the wound to his pride, the physical injuries he's sustaining.

(A heavily scraped shoulder, and a bruised forearm. The blood, Hibiki will find, isn't his, it doesn't come from him.)

He wipes some of it from his chiton to his palm, and watches it as it dissipates from his skin. It turns crystalized in his hand.]

A horserider. Without a head. I couldn't stop him. [He shakes his head even before it starts spouting nonsense.] Were you the one I heard was singing before? I heard rumors.

[windsongs]

[ Good, he's cooperating. Her brows knit as she tries to get a good look, and once she's satisfied, Hibiki will back off. How he managed to come out of a clear scuffle with the headless Horseman (please don't tell her you jumped in front of him, Zagreus.....) is a feat in itself, but she isn't going to press that.

Wordlessly reaching into the med bag, she pulls out a bottle of clear liquid and a clean cloth. It's when he asks about the singing that the small blonde reacts, a sheepish smile sliding on to her cracked and cut lips. ]

You heard about that, huh? Turns out my Voice can be used for more than bossing beasts around. [ She prepares to dampen the cloth in her hand, but stops when she sees the crystalized blood. Her gaze focused on it, she reaches out for it then stops, blinking owlishly as she pulls her hand back. ]

Sorry, didn't mean to suddenly invade your space again. How did you..?

[dodgeouttahell]

I did. Seems like you've been busy. [A tilt of his head, now that he looks at her truly, focused on her.] If it wasn't the rider, what happened to you, Hibiki?

[He withdraws his hand and clenches his fist around the blood-red crystal, drawing it back with a wince.] Don't. It can hurt you. [Swallowing something heavy in his throat, he clears it. Then he opens his hand again, and the crystal is gone.]It's just something I do. I can't really explain.

[windsongs]

[ Hibiki shakes her head slowly, careful not to jostle it too much. ]

Oh, it was him all right, but more splash damage than a direct hit. It's just a couple scrapes, nothing to worry about. I've had worse.

[ Yes, she knows that doesn't make it any better, but she's banking on Zagreus being a bit too out of it to really fight her on the issue. Instead, after he winks the strange red crystal from existence (she will be asking about that later, don't think she'll forget, Zagreus), the small blonde sighs as she uncorks the bottle, pours a bit of the liquid on the cloth, then recaps it. ]

Take a breath in for me, this might hurt.

[ Bringing the cloth up, she dabs the strong antiseptic on his wounded shoulder, gray-blue eyes focused on the wound as she begins to hum a quiet, soothing melody. Like a wistful lullaby, calming and warm, and meant to relax the listener. ]

[dodgeouttahell]

[Splash damage. The wording conjures the mental image of waves crashing and bursting through his own motions and thrashing things and foes alike away. He hisses, not expecting whatever concoction Hibiki had poured onto the cloth to sting despite her warning that it would. Not that it really hurts — he's been skewered and slashed all over, after all — but the shock of it all makes him react.] Oh.

[He frowns, the song wrapping itself like a warm blanket, and he takes a deep breath, his exhale a sigh.] Give me some of that. You need it here. [He points at his own cheek to exemplify.]

[windsongs]

[ Preparing to splash a bit more of the concoction onto the cloth, Hibiki pauses at his insistence. She considers telling him that she's fine, that he really doesn't need to worry about her, but she knows how well that would go. They haven't known each other for long, but he's one of a very select few that know more about her than what's on the surface.

The humming stops as she wordlessly pulls a clean cloth from her bag before handing it to him. She moistens the cloth she still has before offering the bottle out to him. ]

...You shouldn't need a lot, it just needs to be damp.

[dodgeouttahell]

[He manages to pour some of it onto the cloth she gives him, even if he winces at how his shoulder moves. It's garish in itself — usually, pain doesn't last that long, but then again, he's used to being taken by the Styx when it's unbearable, or finds a centaur heart, gyros in an urn, or splashes himself from the crystal teal water of a fountain.

He's unused to this. Do mortals deal with such things constantly?

Before dabbing carefully at her cheek, he smiles and wiggles his hand slightly to warn her.] Should I start singing, too?

[It's a joke. Is it really the time for jokes? Maybe.]

[windsongs]

[ Being mortal sucks, Zagreus. Especially if part of that is tied to being human, their bodies aren't built to last like his clearly is. Watching him as he parrots her movements, Hibiki winces in preparation before catching his smirk and light teasing. She stares at him for a moment before he finally manages to pull a weak smirk out of her. If they weren't both nursing wounds, she'd give that shoulder of his a light shove.

Thank god(s) one of them knows how to ease some of this tension. ]

I'll never say no to being serenaded, but now's probably not the time.

[dodgeouttahell]

You mean there's a time and place to be breaking into song? Blasphemy. ['Laughter is a bodily exercise, precious to Health.' Who had said that, anyway? He remembers Achilles saying it once, a quote of some sort, after one of the rare hearty laughs that burst out of him like a crack in a dam, and he tried scooping back again as though ashamed of the spillage. It had felt oddly misplaced, there in the underworld where disease did not prevail, but now, he gets it. He thinks he gets it.

He tilts his head, stilted breath in the form of a chuckle, as he dabs gently at her cheek.] You can keep going, though. Your voice is lovely.

[windsongs]

[ How is he managing to turn her mood in such a dire place. She doesn't laugh, but her smiled grows just slightly. Is it right to joke around in a situation like this? They do say it's important, but it feels terribly misplaced here. ]

Of course there is. Not like I pay attention to that most of the time, but...

[ At least not here, but it's strange. For some reason, she feels more comfortable embracing that side of her bloodline here. And the man sitting next to her, nonchalantly paying her a compliment like it's nothing, is part of that. She winces when the cloth meets her cheek, but it doesn't do much to get rid of the flattered smirk on her face. She acquiesces to request, opting to quietly sing as she continues to clean his wound.

He was the one encouraging her to try things out, so it's only fair she does with him. ]

[dodgeouttahell]

[She doesn't laugh but he still thinks that's a win. As long as she's comfortable, and at ease about his state, he's done his job. Allowing himself to just settle for a while — a feat, for Zagreus, his own nature and his shadow both skittish and doing the 'restless' monicker justice — and listen, he finds the song slipping along his skin and linger at the base of the back of his skull, like a supporting hand, allowing him to relax. The tone is beautiful, and his hand eases for a second at the flow of it to go back to cleaning Hibiki's wounds.]

That was beautiful, thank you. I do feel much better. Could you lift here for me? [He taps gently at her chin, just wishing to clean the dirt and dried blood that pooled there. Most of her issues are bruises, not blood.] What does this do, anyway? Aside from cleaning the dirt, I mean.

[windsongs]

[ If they were anywhere else, he would have easily gotten her to laugh. But going beyond how gauche that would be, she may have sustained a few dents to that steadfast optimism she wears as armor. Once they're far away from this field, where the bloodshed is a distant memory, they can laugh and joke.

The compliment comes out of nowhere, overriding his request. Beautiful? Geez, if only more people said that back home. Wordlessly, she tips her chin up, tilting her head so she can still look at him. ]

It kills germs, and helps prevent infection. [ A beat, as she realizes that will probably go over his head. ] Just think of it as something that helps wounds heal.

[dodgeouttahell]

With a chuckle, he shakes his head. I know what infection is. Nasty stuff that can kill you slowly if you are not careful, right? [He winces slightly as he leans in to peer under her chin and wipes there, finding a slight scrape just begging to bleed more. Something in him tells him not to remove the hardening blood from its source, as he realizes it's something that does happen to him, and he feels better later on. ] A friend of mine told me about it. He visits the surface often and tells me about all kinds of things when he's not too busy.

[windsongs]

[ Sorry Zagreus, she just assumes that she needs to simplify things a bit for anyone not clearly from a modern age, and well... He definitely fits that bill. She tries to nod but it's hard to do with her chin tipped upward. She winces lightly when the cloth grazes near the cut. She swears she doesn't normally flinch this much.

She blinks a few times, processing what he says. ]

The surface, you mean... [ She should know the name for this. ] The earth? Sorry, I'm probably the least-informed siren ever, I should know what it's called.

[ The fact that she's able to joke, even if with a self-depreciating tone, means she's at least somewhat relaxed. ]

Do you live in the Underworld then? Have you never been up there?

[dodgeouttahell]

That's what we call it, anyway. The earth, you're correct. I think the mortals there call it Greece. [Did he ever explain to Hibiki how he wasn't mortal, not exactly, and therefore why it only made even less sense to be here, in this Underworld? He's not sure, but then again, he believes he hit his head, which means that Zagreus isn't really paying much attention to the history of his conversations.]

I've been there twice. But not for long. It looked very beautiful, though. [Bright, verdant, so full of movement, from the breeze to the sounds, to the crashing of waves in the distance. Even the Sun moved, he had realized in the short times he was there. It was all so overwhelmingly full of motion and life.]

[windsongs]

[ Mortals, huh? Of course she had the suspicion when he confirmed that he was the son of a god, but it's good to hear it from the source. She nods.

It's the second thing he says that piques her interest. He's only been a few times, huh? ]

Obviously I've never been to the Underworld, but Earth is a beautiful place for the most part. Have you not had time to go up there and explore?

[dodgeouttahell]

Not quite. [This may be the one time that Zagreus lends some wistfulness to his voice's tone in a while, and Hibiki, the first to hear it, too.] I can't stay there for long periods of time, barely two hours, as I believe you call them.

It's a shame, though. It looks so bright. [As bright as an older goddess' smile when she finds ripe fruit in her orchard.] I'm connected to places like this one. So I'm not able to linger.

[windsongs]

[ She wishes she hadn't heard that tone from him. Forced to live his life in the Underworld, with only a short amount of time spent in the sun. Even here, they're blanketed in perpetual dark.

It's heartbreaking. ]

It is. I guess... I never really thought what it would be like to never get to experience a day in the sun. It can be beautiful, breathtaking even. [ She reaches out for the bottle again, her cloth starting to feel a little dry. But she doesn't move to continue to clean him up, letting her hands rest comfortably in her lap. ]

But I've always preferred the night myself. I'm sure it's nothing like the Underworld, but there's something weirdly comforting about it that I can't explain. There are stars and a moon like the ones here, even if the ones here a lot brighter than where I'm from. Probably even more the further you get from Stygia. And sure, it's not gonna replace the sun, but if you ask me, what you can see here is a lot better than just about anything it has to offer.

[dodgeouttahell]

[The line of his eyes draws something fond, although not aimed at Hibiki herself. It feels like a pang in his chest, flurrying through his ribcage that has nothing to do with how injured he is—some sort of longing.] Mother Nyx is always like that.

[Starry-haired, dark-voiced; eyes bright like the moon. He almost winces at calling her 'Mother' out of habit, now knowing the truth. But who isn't she, if but the one who raised him along her real progeny?] You can never tell if it's night or day, whether you're in Tartarus, Asphodel, or Elysium. Ixion sure lights everything up, but it's very difficult to say.

[A head tilt.] Do you think they get brighter if we travel further away? I'd like to see that.

[windsongs]

[ 'Mother' Nyx. That's not something she necessarily expect to add to that name, but... it makes sense. And as his smile warms, she knows immediately that it's not for her. It hits hard and true, pulling up something Hibiki genuinely hasn't thought about since arriving here.

Maybe if she searches hard enough, she might run into her own--

Not important; she drags herself away from that wistful reverie to focus on Zagreus's words. But it's less about the places in the Underworld, but the question he asks afterward with an almost child-like wonder. She can't help but smile in return, incandescently bright as she tilts her head as well. ]

Wanna find out?

[dodgeouttahell]

[What struck Hibiki so hard, to the point that she spaced out for a second? Was it the descriptor of the night, or…

'Mother.' Of course. He knows that look. Has drawn it himself in his own gaze.

He does blink, though, somewhat surprised by her question. It sounds like a nonsequitur.] Uh. I guess I do.

[windsongs]

[ That's just the type of person she is, Zagreus, it's best to just get used to it. When posed with something that would make the people around her happy (or that she believes will), she will seize those opportunities as soon as they show themselves.

She does smile somewhat apologetically, realizing she might have leapt too soon. ]

Sorry, I don't mean right away--and you're always welcome to tell me no. But once we've got a little more time in this place, let's see if we can find a little light here.

[ Cleaning the last bit of dirt from the wound on his shoulder, her smile remains quietly fond. ]

I take it that Nyx is more mother-like to you, if my still very limited knowledge can be trusted. What is she like?

[dodgeouttahell]

She was the one who raised me. [Although he won't go into detail about who his real mother is—everyone else but him seems to know already! He lifts the skull pauldron on his shoulder, letting her reach beneath it, lest there's actual blood stuck there, too.] She's lovely. Strict but supportive. Somehow she does manage to strike that balance very well. But then again, she sees everything, most of everything, at least.

[He has caught himself looking up and wondering if she was watching.] That sounds like a plan, though. I look forward to it. Oh, hey, your ear? [He reaches to clean at her earlobe.] There.

[windsongs]

[ She isn't 100% sure who his mother is, but she can make an educated guess. But knowing that the Netherworld seems to pull people from odd places in their life (she's becoming increasingly unconvinced that any of them actually died), she won't voice her theory. ]

I can tell she means a lot to you. I know that isn't always guaranteed with family, especially the ones you might not be directly related to.

[ It's small, flickering for just an instant, but there's a weight to her words that doesn't necessary come from outside observation. It's hard to tell if Hibiki even notices it herself. She carries on as normal; moving her hair out of the way, her nose scrunching as he manages to find a nick on her earlobe. ]

I've got my theories on where that might be, but I don't see us being able to go there anytime soon unfortunately.